


Musical Moments

by whatswiththemustache



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, Arthur and Merlin, Canon Divergence, Gen, Haunting, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other, Pre-slash (I guess), bad memories, lots of feels, major character death implied, song-inspired oneshots, the song is the feel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-08 18:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5508632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatswiththemustache/pseuds/whatswiththemustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What would <em>you</em> know about battles, anyway?"</p><p>Merlin froze, turning again so that Arthur couldn't see his eyes. He was sure that they would betray him.<br/><em>What would I know about battles, anyway?</em><br/>Merlin reached back, and every memory was as fresh as if it had happened just yesterday –</p><p>A series of song-inspired oneshots. Sorry for all the angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who Am I Living For

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Who Am I Living For?  
> Summary: Arthur is about to march to his death, and Merlin to find his magic - both losing time and faith. Just a few words, strung unsuspectingly together, can bring back so many painful memories - and renew any lost hope. [This takes place in the beginning of the Diamond of the Day Part 1, where (according to me) Merlin is helping Arthur with his armor before he leaves for the Crystal Cave. Doesn't make sense? Yeah, whatever. I needed the correct setting for this, here it is.]  
> Rating: T (moderately violent memories) (no language)  
> Genre: General / Angst  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or the characters of Merlin…and didn't we already KNOW that?  
> BEFORE YOU READ: Listen to the song 'Who Am I Living For' by Katy Perry (stop judging, it's good) before/as you read this. That's the song that inspired me to write this, and I hope that the fiction and song go well together. Enjoy! :D

Arthur didn't move as Merlin strapped the armor onto him, piece by piece. He was silent, for once; Arthur and Merlin's usual banter was extinguished by the coming storm of battle. Merlin worked carefully, steadily, with his head down; a mistake here could cost Arthur his life out on the battle field. Especially if Merlin wasn't there to protect him.

_Because I won't be_ , Merlin thought to himself sadly, ignoring Arthur's gaze on the back of his head. He knew Arthur could tell that something was off. Something was missing. Something that made Merlin _Merlin;_ something that had to be present for the life in his eyes to be complete.

Magic.

And there was the reason Arthur couldn't know.

As Merlin fumbled for a moment with an unwilling strap, Arthur sighed loudly.

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur drawled, playing out his King Prat voice. "You know, actually acting like a normal servant for once really doesn't suit you."

Merlin didn't look up, simply nodding and moving on to the next strap. He knew that there was no getting away without saying _some_ thing, but Merlin was planning on delaying this talk – this last talk – between them for as long as possible.

The silence didn't last long. "Merlin, what's wrong now?" Arthur still managed to inject a lofty tone into his obviously concerned words. Well, that was Arthur for you.

Merlin took a breath, trying to find the right words to say. How many times had he done this? Sent Arthur off to fight with words of wisdom, all the while preparing for his own battles? Never knowing if this was _that_ day – the last day?

Finally Merlin raised his head, looking Arthur square in the eye. There was no smile on his face, no attempt at humor. "Arthur…this isn't just any battle. It's the battle of _Camlann_ , the turning point of this war. The battle that decided whether we win…or we lose. And we _can't_ lose."

Merlin turned to pick up Arthur's helmet, pausing in his speech. When he faced Arthur, Merlin let his eyes remain on the helmet. "So…we have to win." Merlin looked up into Arthur's eyes, offering him his helmet. "You have to win. And I believe you can."

Arthur stared at the helmet with apprehension, then at Merlin. His eyes only held concern. "…thank you."

Unfortunately, his voice always pretended otherwise. Arthur frowned skeptically at Merlin, their serious moment over. "What would _you_ know about battles, anyway?"

Merlin froze, turning again so that Arthur couldn't see his eyes. He was sure that they would betray him.

_What would_ I _know about battles, anyway?_

Merlin reached back, and every memory was as fresh as if it had happened just yesterday –

_He was drinking the poison from Arthur's cup, feeling the venom spread throughout his body, burning him,_ drowning _him; he was watching the fight for Ealdor progress, watching his people die, feeling his resolve to not use magic crumple; he was at the Isle of the Blessed, falling in agony as Nimueh's fireball collided with his body; he was watching as Arthur and his Knights attacked Freya, hearing her pain,_ feeling _her pain; he was pouring the poison into the water, thrusting it at Morgana, watching her as she drank it and choked, staring at him accusingly, and_ hating _himself._

Every time Arthur suited up for battle, Merlin was doing the same; every time Arthur marched out with his Knights and his armies, Merlin was walking a different road alone. Arthur fought in the battles with swords and strength, amongst friends and allies. Merlin fought with his magic, but he stood on a different front, and he was the only soldier. He could never afford to be afraid, so he wasn't. Not on the outside.

_He was wrapped in chains, watching as Morgause walked away, leaving him to die, watching as the serkets came closer and closer, the sting biting into his back with a rush of flames and fear; he was pacing in his room, his mind tearing at itself to choose between saving Morgana or saving his destiny; he was being led out to the pyre, disguised as an old man and unable to free himself, the fear of burning clawing its way up his throat; he was running towards the Cup of Life, just inches away when he was ripped back and slammed into a hard stone wall; he was leaping through the Dorocha, feeling the ice clutch his heart with an iron grip, feeling it beckon him cruelly into the darkness._

But Arthur fought the enemies that were announced and visible. Merlin fought constantly, and he fought the things hiding in the dark. He could never take off his armor because the battle was never won. And he fought in the dark, too; he would save Arthur or Camelot or the entire world, and when he came home, half dead, no one could ever know. He had to continue on with a smile on his face and cheerful remark on his tongue, ignoring his aching wounds.

_He was watching, horrified, as Uther gasped one last time and finally lay still, as Arthur accused him furiously of killing the king; he was running through the crumbling temple, the precious egg clutched tightly in his arms, feeling the pain of the man lying inside, dying,_ dead, _but unable to go back to save him; he was strung up in Morgana's hut, panic bubbling in the pit of his stomach, as she hissed the very last words he wanted to hear, choking on his screams as the Fomorroh twisted itself into his very flesh; he was frozen, watching, as Morgana waited expectantly for Alator to reveal Emrys' identity, for her to turn to him with redoubled hate in her eyes, for the agony to start._

Arthur lived by the sword, and everyone knew it. His weapon was revered and acknowledged. Merlin had to hide his only weapon, and live with the constant fear of being discovered, of being called a traitor, of being executed. Merlin's magic was his light, his candle; without it, he'd have been lost long ago. It was the sharpest of swords to some, and it was a savior to others. It was greater than anyone could ever imagine. But he knew that if anyone found out…if Arthur, or Gwen, or the Knights found out about any tiny part of himself that he kept hidden, forever secret, it would change everything. The smallest spark would set off undying flames, burning away any friendship Merlin had with any of them.

_He was yelling at the knights to listen to him, to believe him about Lamia, falling painfully against the wall as Leon shoved him back, wondering if this was how it would be if his secret was ever discovered; he was rushing through the caves outside Ealdor, revealing his magic to Agravaine, watching distantly as Agravaine flew back against the rock, cracking his head,_ dying _, and instead of satisfied, he felt_ so _sad; he was staring into the pool of water, icy terror gripping his heart, as he watched Mordred stride up to an injured Arthur and plunged a sword into his stomach, unable to tear away his gaze; he was inspecting the rock curiously, freezing in panic as he read the name 'Morgana', leaping up to warn them, warn_ Arthur _, but flying back into the sharp pain that faded into darkness…_

Merlin had never wanted to be born with this destiny. He had never asked for magic; he had never gotten a choice. He had been chosen, without any say in the matter. He had learned this during those first few days, during his first meeting with the Great Dragon. He had defied the call of destiny at first. Later, he had accepted – he resigned himself to spending his life protecting a man who would never be more than a job needing doing. But as time passed, he seemed to forget the reason. He forgot about destiny, and started thinking more about who he was protecting. He started helping Arthur grow into a worthy Prince, and not because of destiny. Not really.

_What would_ I _know about battles, anyway?_

Why did he do it? Why did Merlin sacrifice everything – his friends, his family, his very _life_ – for this? To be put through endless misery and pain? Who was he living and dying for?

Magic.

Destiny.

Camelot.

Loyalty and friendship and promises…

Arthur.

_– lost in the endless jungle, determined to_ never _give up; watching with undying pride as Gwen stumbled into the lake, into Arthur's forgiving arms; promising to himself as he felt Finna die that he_ would _end this –_

A destiny that would never die; a friend that would never turn on him. Merlin knew who he lived for, and he knew who he would die for. The Once and Future King. His best friend. Arthur.

"– _Merlin?_ " Arthur's incredulous voice broke him out of his trance. Merlin glanced up at Arthur, eyebrows raised.

Arthur gaped at him with his brow wrinkled, what seemed to be his default expression when it came to Merlin. "You know, sometimes I _really_ wonder about you." Shaking his head, Arthur snatched his helmet from Merlin's grasp and clanked out of the room.

Merlin smiled to himself as he watched Arthur go.

_What would_ I _know about battles, anyway?_

_More than you can ever know, Arthur._


	2. A Thousand Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: A Thousand Years  
> Summary: Sometimes, memories are just too heavy to hold – sometimes we choose to just let them go. If your one true love can't remind you of who you are, then who can?  
> Rating: T (this is just fluff, guys, with a few hugs and kisses. :D)  
> Genre: General / Romance  
> Disclaimer: You guessed it…I don't own Merlin. *tortured sigh*  
> BEFORE YOU READ: Head over to youtube and listen to the song 'A Thousand Years' by Christina Perri as you read this! That's the song that inspired this fic, and is really an overwhelmingly beautiful song anyway…
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Sometimes, a life lived long since seems just too far away. Sometimes all the good seems out of balance with all of the bad. Sometimes, even the strongest shoulders shake under the weight of worlds.

Sometimes, memories are just too heavy to hold – sometimes we choose to just let them go.

First, he'd planned and prepared – kept himself occupied with the prospect of a future need, another time when the world depended on him. He was patient, at first.

But the years grew longer and longer, emptier and emptier. His days were lonelier and more friendless than he'd ever thought possible. And then, he simply waited.

Outlasting time was a daunting task, but as the millennia behind him grew, it didn't seem quite as impossible – not as impossible, but even more terrifying than anything else.

Those empty years grew, and soon he realized that he had a choice.

The abyss of time before him whispered of his chance – _remember? Or forget?_ – and he closed his eyes, finally, when the choice was made.

The distant past could become unreachable, and all he had to do was choose to forget.

So he forgot.

* * *

In the dead of night, a silent lake rippled with the breath of a nonexistent wind. Tendrils of the surrounding trees dipped into the tranquil water, rustling noiselessly. The sky was clear, millions of stars glimmering in the distance. Moonlight immersed the lakeside scene in a soft glow, illuminating everything subtly.

A woman sat at the water's edge, her fingers brushing the lake's surface. She sighed – another brush of gentle breeze – as wide ripples emanated from the center of the otherwise motionless lake. _It's time_.

She had never had quite so great a destiny as others in her life had had, but her place was still immovable in the path of another's.

She knew he'd been waiting all these years, and so had she – though her life was long since over, her destiny was not.

The woman stood silently, her dress flowing around her in deep purple and blue waves. With the flick of one slender hand, she sent a trail of water droplets arcing through the air as if time itself were slowed – they spun in the moonlight, glimmering like jewels. The surface of the lake trembled at their touch, its reflection of the starry sky marred for a moment.

The Lady of the Lake smiled, a change in the air. _He's coming._

* * *

On a night nearly three months later, a full moon shining from high in the sky, the lake felt his coming presence. The lady stood by her shore, her eyes dancing in the moonlight. Her hands rose out before her, palms up, and she closed her eyes with a sigh of wind.

Tendrils of moonlit color swirled from her still figure, blossoming into the air above the water, touching every tree and rock at the water's edge. She smiled, her lashes brushing her cheeks, as the shore upon which she stood was filled with a warm light.

The wind brushed her unmoving form, bringing the touch of another – _him._

For a moment, she didn't move, her eyes still closed – another breath, but this time not wind.

She opened her eyes.

She was surrounded by light, warm and familiar. Millions of tiny sparks floated all around her – candles drifted gently on the water's surface, or were cradled carefully at the base of trees, on rocks, at the edge of the still water. The air was filled with thousands of individual glowing flames, hanging in the air above the lake, concentrating above the shore where she stood.

As breathtaking as the sight she'd created was, her eyes were drawn past the beautiful lake to its distant shore. There stood a lone figure, his face scantily lit by candlelight.

Her heart brimmed with hope as he walked slowly around the water's edge. His footsteps were quiet on the ground as he came up to her, hesitant.

_One step closer…_

He stopped just out of her reach, eyes wide. The silence was barely noticed by the Lady as she took the sight of him in, trying to soak in every detail. A thousand years wait was a long one.

Their eyes met, her love seeing his pain. She watched as his lips parted, breathing words in a voice she'd missed for so long. "I felt you… _call_ me."

She smiled, feeling her eyes fill with tears. Suddenly she found herself standing almost nose-to-nose with him. He lifted a hand to catch her tear, brushing her face. She shivered, closing her eyes. "I've missed you," she breathed.

Her eyes fluttered open, only to have her be overwhelmed by the sensation of falling into his own cerulean eyes, so close now. Time seemed to stand still as their lips met, and she fell into his arms, for so long the only place she could ever have felt truly safe.

When they parted, she grasped his hands in both of hers, standing tall. He seemed to sense her change, his eyes wary.

"Time has been hard on you," She said softly, squeezing his hand in hers. "The ages have given me another part in your destiny."

He frowned, shaking his head in confusion. "What…?"

She smiled. "To help you remember," she murmured, her gaze falling to their joined hands. "Why it's worth the wait."

He slumped slightly, his face crumpling. "I can't – it's too hard," he whispered, his head bowed in defeat. "I've waited _so long_ …every day, thinking of what I _could_ have done – what I didn't do."

She bit her lip, brow furrowed, as her love shook his head miserably. He sighed heavily, meeting her gaze with pleading eyes. "I _know_ that it's my duty to wait – I _know_ I owe that to them. But…it's just so much easier to let it go. It's easier to forget."

She shook her head sadly, wishing his pain away. "You _don't_ owe it to them to suffer. No one can make the choice but you, because that's all it is – _your_ decision. Not destiny, not your friends, not even I could ever – or _would_ ever – force you to do something you didn't want to. Only you have the right to decide what you should do. As the Lady of the Lake, I'm only here to tell you that." Taking a breath, she stepped closer to him gracefully.

"But…as _Freya,_ the woman who loves you…I want you to know that I've waited, too. The memories of my past life aren't anywhere near as hard to bear as yours are, but I too have sacrificed much to wait for you…to stay here rather than journey onwards."

Throughout her speech, he'd straightened, and now he made an anguished sound, looking her up and down. "What? _Why_ …I didn't know you had a choice! Why did you stay?"

She smiled tenderly, tilting her head slightly. "Because I love you," she said simply. "I have loved you for a thousand years… and I'd love you for a thousand more."

Tears running down his face, he pulled her to him, tight in an embrace. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "But why – if you're waiting for me, why can't I just…stay here? Your wait would be over."

She pulled away from him, shaking her head. "If you stay here too long, the part of you that is mortal will be gone. You would die."

"I'd be with you," he countered, smiling gently. "There's nothing left for me here."

The smile faded from her face as her expression turned remorseful. "Now, there is nothing but endless waiting. But one day, your destiny will need completion. The world will need you…and most of all, Arthur will."

He frowned, shaking his head desperately. "But…when? I can't wait forever – he won't want me, Arthur –" he flinched slightly at the name "– Arthur _killed_ you!"

She lifted her shoulders slightly, her hair fluttering delicately. "He is the Once and Future King," she said quietly, sighing. "He has had many faults in his past, but with your help, he grew from an arrogant prince into a great king. He will need you again."

He shook his head slowly, shoulders slumping in defeat. For a moment a silence fell between them, short but heavy with expectation.

Finally he looked up, meeting her eye. "I have to wait for him," he said slowly, contemplating his words. "But...you don't have to wait for me." It was more a question than a statement.

She responded by stepping in to kiss him gently, pulling away all too soon. "But I will," she said.

He nodded reluctantly, watching as she took a step back. At his questioning look, she sighed sadly. "You can't stay any longer," she said regretfully, dipping her head. "I can only remain in this form for so long. I need to return to the lake."

His startled look was replaced by heartbreaking sorrow as he fell back another step. She turned, her gown dragging silently on the ground, and walked between the glowing candles to the water's edge. There she twisted around to send one last smile to her love. "Merlin," she called, the warmth evident in her voice. "I'll be waiting for you."

He hesitated for a moment before replying. "I'll remember."

As she stepped noiselessly into the dark water, the candles that surrounded Merlin on the shore flickered in an abrupt gust of wind. Freya's form dissolved into moonlight with a final breath of cold breeze just as lakeside scene fell into darkness, all traces of the warm candlelight gone.

Merlin sank down to the ground, watching the lake rest in the night. Only hours later, when the sky was just beginning to light up with the color of dawn, did he finally stand, walking slowly away into the trees. Head bowed in resignation, he didn't look back.

Remaining behind was just the lake, silent as ever, and its lonely shore, disturbed only by dozens of unlit candles, left cold and hardened by time.


	3. The Devil Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: She's got a new obsession, and she won't rest until he knows what it was like for her to go through the same thing. He knows that there's something just out of sight, watching him, and he can only pretend that it's nothing for so long. In the end, they're both going to go down.
> 
> Rating: T (dark themes/implied character death)
> 
> Genre: Supernatural / Suspense
> 
> BEFORE YOU READ: Go and listen to the song "The Devil Within" by Digital Daggers. That's the song that inspired this - the song is Morgana's POV.

**The Devil Within**

A lonely set of footsteps echoed through the stone halls of Camelot, disturbing the quiet of an uneventful night.

The corridor was empty, save one person, so no one witnessed how those sure-paced steps paused briefly – one foot was set decisively on the floor, slowly – and then a moment of silence.

After only a short falter, the steps continued again – maybe a bit slower, hesitant. The sound rang through empty hall after empty hall, down sets of stairs and away – no cause for alarm, nothing to note.

Merlin kept walking, his footsteps the only sound, telling himself that it was nothing – that there was nothing for it to be. It's easier to forget something than to dwell on it, anyway.

* * *

Days passed like they always did in Camelot those days – uneventfully, calmly, peacefully. There wasn't all that much for them to worry about anymore. Everyone in Camelot reveled in the change – everyone making the most of what was left to them. Arthur and Gwen, married and in love; the knights, blessed with the chance to allow themselves to be off-guard sometimes; Gaius, not constantly wondering who's well-being he might have to worry over next; the city in general, happy for the war to be over.

Still, it couldn't be denied that Merlin had the most to be thankful about – this time was all he'd ever wished for. Finally, after everything, all of the people who meant the most to him had discovered who he really was, and accepted it. Perhaps it hadn't been the easiest time of his life – no, that week had been the hardest. But it was over, the war was won, Morgana was gone – magic was soon to be officially freed, and Merlin could be who he was.

Everything was perfect.

And yet…there was _something_. Merlin felt off, like his universe had shifted by a millimeter – in a way, he supposed it had – and he couldn't put his finger on it. He continued on as usual – despite everyone knowing that he had magic, Merlin was still carrying as Arthur's servant until the law could be changed officially. He followed the routine that he'd grown so used to that he didn't even have to think, even thou he wished he did, because then maybe he wouldn't have had time for so much wondering.

_Something…_

"Merlin?"

Merlin startled around, a basket of laundry spilling out of his arms onto the floor of Arthur's chambers; the sound of his name coming unexpectedly from behind him had unnerved him by far more than it usually would have. Behind him, standing casually with her hand placed lightly on the surface of the polished table, was Gwen. She wore a faint smile at Merlin's reaction, tilting her head in amusement.

"Oh – Gwen – ah," Merlin almost panted, trying to clutch at various garments for a few pointless seconds; finally he gave up, sighing in exasperation. "You startled me."

"Yes, I noticed," said Gwen, her smile widening as if in spite of herself; she raised a hand to her mouth, eyes bright with laughter. "Here – let me help you."

"No – Gwen, you don't have to –" Merlin's protests were useless. Gwen crouched down beside Merlin and began heaping all the clothes back into the basket, still smiling. Merlin couldn't help smiling as well, watching his friend, a queen now, helping out a servant – _Gwen will never change_. He knelt to the floor as well, gathering an armful of clothes before straightening to place them in the basket – then, a flicker of movement caught his eye, his heart skipping a beat –

Merlin froze, staring across the room where there'd been something – eyes darting, he couldn't find anything, but he'd been _sure_. In a lightning second, Merlin's eyes suddenly latched onto motion – slung over the back of a chair on the other side of the room was an emerald dress, one sleeve hanging to the floor. The sleeve swung ever so slightly, back and forth, the arc of movement slowing. Merlin blinked, glancing around the room once again – there was nothing else.

"Merlin?" Gwen looked up at Merlin, her face a little concerned – Merlin blinked again, meeting her eyes with his confused ones. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," replied Merlin, after a beat of silence. "It's nothing."

* * *

_Yeah. It's nothing_. The words were like a balm to her every wound.

_It's working_ , she thought in grim satisfaction, slipping around a corner and disappearing into shadow. She might have expected glee and exhilaration, at any other time, but this was different in a million ways. Nothing was the same anymore – nothing she felt, nothing she did. Maybe once upon a time, she would have taken jubilant pleasure in this, but now…it wasn't a pastime. It wasn't a whim. It was her only goal, the only thing left for her to do…her one mission. And she was going to make damn sure she did it right, _just_ right.

It was an obsession now. There was only room for concentration in her mind.

_You'll never know what hit you._

* * *

_It's nothing_. Why had those words becoming such a common part of Merlin's vocabulary recently? When had those words become so familiar? For some reason, he felt that thinking on it for too long would only make matters worse.

Merlin knew he was acting oddly, now. His friends were beginning to notice, and Gaius wouldn't stop pestering him about it – but he couldn't really explain it either. Easier to blame it on the weather or a passing cold; easier to say that _it's nothing_. He didn't want to keep secrets – those times were over – but this seemed to him like something better left unsaid. At least for now…until he knew what was going on.

No matter how hard he tried to hide it, though – it was impossible to erase. Merlin was acting weird; he _felt_ weird. Jumpy, always finding himself looking over his shoulder – always feeling like he _should_ be looking over his shoulder. Uneasy, when there wasn't anything wrong, and no hint that there might be. Apprehensive, even at the calmest moments, even when he knew there was no reason to be. And it never mattered how many times he told himself that it was nothing, because his every sense told him otherwise.

The truth was – there _was_ something. Something going on, something skirting the edges. Something at the corner of his eye.

But it always vanished into thin air before he could ever find a reason to believe it, so he kept on saying it.

It's nothing.

* * *

The room was dark, almost black; night had long since fallen and everyone was asleep, even those who shouldn't be. Silent, as well, because no one ever heard her quiet footsteps unless she wanted them to. No one ever heard the breath of air in her wake unless in that was her intention.

In some ways, the change that had overcome her was so restricting – she confining. In other ways, however, it gave her more power than she'd ever had before.

She walked slowly – purposefully – through the cluttered room, so familiar but so undeniably _different_. The steady, rhythmic sound of breathing was the only noise, blocking out any hint of sound she might have left behind – not that she ever did. She stole up the short set of steps and through the door, smiling as her eyes lit upon his sleeping form. _So peaceful. So calm_.

She stood there for a while, just watching, because it's nice to savor the well-being of something for a moment…a moment, just before you shatter that well-being like a thin pane of glass.

Merlin's eyes snapped open, darting around the room in search of _something_. But she was already gone.

_Won't see me closing in._

* * *

That day went by in a strange, almost frenzied blur for Merlin, despite the complete and utter _ordinariness_ of it. It was nothing – but it was _something_. More than one person had noticed his odd mood, commenting on it with a hesitant smile – because they weren't really sure whether to laugh or to ask, seriously, what was wrong.

Merlin brushed them all off, despite their concern. It was nothing, surely. Just…something.

He'd begun to studiously ignore all the urges he was constantly getting – telling him to _look, over there, it's_ something – it was much easier to pretend that he didn't notice anything amiss. It didn't matter whether he looked or not, really; he'd already learned that whenever he _did_ turn, glancing over his shoulder in muted alarm…there'd be nothing. That never changed.

Still, ignoring that _nothing_ – but it had to be something – was beginning to get on his nerves. It was like an itch that he simply refused to scratch, and instead of fading away, that itch just got more and more infuriatingly persistent. He forced himself to stand perfectly still when every part of him was screaming that if only he'd turn his head a bit, just fractionally – then he'd see it. He closed his eyes whenever that flash of motion flickered at the corner of his eye – because it was nothing.

At least, he did – but that was until he got the even stranger feeling that the _nothing_ wanted to be something.

He was walking quietly down one of the halls of Camelot – alone, pensive. He'd had a lot on his mind recently – and suddenly he found his soft footsteps pausing as he heard another pair of steps approaching. A pair of footsteps that sent an icy chill through his body.

Merlin stood frozen, just a few feet from a junction of two corridors. The sharp, rapping sound of footsteps were coming from there – _click, clack, click, clack_ – striding their way towards him. Just a pair of footsteps, and it could be anybody – so why did the sound freeze Merlin in his tracks, his heart fluttering like the wings of some trapped moth?

They kept coming – the harsh, clicking sound that immediately brought to mind the type of high-heeled, delicate woman's shoes. The kind that Gwen didn't really wear. The kind that many noble women tried to avoid, for the simple reason of comfort. _Click, clack – click, clack – click, clack._

His heart about to leap out of his chest, Merlin couldn't take it anymore – unthinkingly, he took a long stride to launch himself into the center of the intersection of corridors, wild eyes wide to catch sight of whoever it was.

But the hallway was empty.

* * *

Watching Merlin, she couldn't resist the slow smile that spread across her face – not that there was any reason to. He stood there, shoulders heaving ever so slightly – the only thing to reveal that he was tearing himself inside, unsure and frantic and hyperventilating.

She certainly had known the feeling well. That was the whole reason for this. Every second she saw him beginning to doubt himself – beginning to wonder if it wasn't actually something out _there_ – was a victory. _I'm gonna make you suffer_ … After all, revenge had always been one of her strongest fortes. _The hell you put me in…_

Merlin finally shook his head fractionally – frantic, frenzied – and seemed to jerk himself out of his frozen state; he continued on the way he'd been going, almost running, with his head firmly down – perhaps a little _too_ decisively? She could have laughed. If he hadn't already learned that lesson, then he soon would – ignoring her wouldn't make her go away. She took a silent step forward, watching Merlin's retreating figure with a smirk – he never turned. He wouldn't see her until she wanted him to, anyway.

_I'm underneath your skin…the devil within._

* * *

Merlin threw himself into Arthur's chambers, gripping the edge of the heavy door – both Arthur and Gwen were inside, startling at the loud noise. "Merlin?" Gwen asked, her face transforming into a frown. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

Merlin shoved the door closed behind him, leaning against the comforting wood. Not that it really offered much comfort. "Ah…not – not really," he panted, after a moment of silence. "I just – I don't know."

Gwen and Arthur were already moving towards him, brows furrowed in concern. The silence stretched for a long moment – Merlin didn't move, just standing frozen. "What is it?" Arthur asked haltingly, warily.

Another second of silence. _I can't tell them, can I? They'll never believe me_. "It's just – well, it's noth – I mean…" _Then what_ can _I tell them? I don't even know myself…_

Gwen raised her dark eyebrows, inclining her head as an urge to speak. "You know you can tell us anything," said Gwen slowly, almost as if trying to approach a wounded animal. _Anything_ , Merlin thought. Ever since they'd found out about his magic, that had been true.

"Yeah," replied Merlin after a beat. He ducked his head, feeling fidgety – he could still feel his limbs trembling quietly. "It's just that – well. R-recently I've been getting this – this feeling –" Merlin looked up at Arthur and Gwen, steeling himself to just tell them, when his eyes moved on their own, drawn to a hint of motion across the room –

It was her.

Like a punch to the gut, Merlin's heart seemed to leap straight out of his chest, his stomach dropping to the floor – _her, her, her_ – he didn't even feel his back slamming into the door behind him as he gasped, and it seemed that his heart had just jammed itself back into his throat, because now he found that he couldn't breathe past its frantic pounding. Arthur and Gwen both whipped around in alarm, and Merlin's gaze flickered away to catch their flurry of movement – just for a second – and when he looked back to the spot, across the room and in the shadows, she was gone.

The image of her, however, refused to fade from behind his eyes. Ragged black dress, tangled black hair disappearing into its torn folds. Pale face, palest green eyes. Most prominently, the twisted, satisfied smirk that was aimed directly at him. _It can't be_.

"What is it?"

"Merlin?!"

Arthur and Gwen's panicked voices came to him distantly, and he realized that they had rushed to his side, clutching at his shoulder – but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the spot where she'd been. They kept calling, voices getting increasingly frightened – he had to force himself to take a breath.

"D-didn't you – didn't you s-see –" Merlin's voice shook ridiculously, and he vaguely noted Arthur and Gwen exchanging looks stricken with alarm. After a second of silence, Arthur met Merlin's wild gaze, his eyes wide and wary.

"We didn't see anything. Merlin, what's going on?"

"There's something," whispered Merlin, his hands shaking uncontrollably – he clenched them into fists, but that didn't stop his heart from hammering wildly, pounding in his throat. "Something – something, I just ignored it but now I can't, I just can't anymore –" He was rambling now, stumbling and tripping over his words, but he couldn't stop himself. Couldn't even think.

"Wait, wait, slow down," said Gwen quickly, her eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"

"Is it something to do with magic?" Arthur asked suddenly, frowning – but not in suspicion, because they didn't do that anymore. Just concern, so the dread that flooded Merlin had nothing to do with anything –

"I – I don't know, I don't know, I guess it must do – it just – it couldn't be –" Nausea washed over Merlin, and he only just resisted the urge to double over. _It's impossible._ _It's over_.

"Merlin, what _is_ it?" demanded Arthur, his voice hard – but not quite disguising his anxiety, his complete panic.

Merlin closed his eyes. "It's her," he whispered, almost inaudible – but it was enough.

They stood frozen, unsure – Merlin slipped past them both, feeling his legs shake.

"Merlin! Wait – what do you mean?" Their cries followed him, but Merlin barely heard. "Wait, stop –"

But Merlin was already gone, slipping across the room and out through the servant's passage; his eyes never left that spot where _she'd_ been standing until the last possible second. Dashing down the narrow corridor, heart pounding, He didn't even really know where he was going, except that he was going – somewhere, anywhere that there wasn't _something_ – but it wasn't _something_ anymore either.

Her face refused to leave his mind's eye.

* * *

Leon and Elyan were just walking casually around the corner of one of the many interlocking hallways of the castle when two sets of rushed footsteps met their ears – suddenly Arthur and Gwen burst around the corner, eyes wide in lingering alarm.

"What's going on?" Leon's voice rang out in the confined area, sounding louder than normal. Arthur and Gwen exchanged weighted looks, seeming uncertain –

"It's Merlin," said Arthur bluntly, looking back to his knights. His words caused a short silence, even now – problems concerning Merlin were never good.

"What happened?" asked Elyan, hesitant.

Gwen bit her lip. "He's been acting strangely…sort of, I don't know, sort of jumpy," said Gwen, frowning. Both Elyan and Leon nodded – they'd noticed it too. "And just now – we were trying to ask him what's been wrong with him lately, and then he suddenly just sort of – well, he said he _saw_ something –"

Gwen fell silent, frowning is agitation – Leon and Elyan looked to Arthur, the both of them frowning in concern as well.

Arthur sighed, a pained look in his eyes. "He said…he said, 'it's her'."

Sience – complete, for perhaps everyone's hearts had temporarily stopped as well.

"It couldn't be," whispered Leon, eyes wide.

"I know."

"But that's not…" _That's not possible_. Everyone heard the silent words.

"I know," Arthur said again, his tone terse. "Which is why we've got to find Merlin."

* * *

He slammed the feeble door shut, noting for anything but the first time that it was unsatisfyingly weak – not that whatever was after _him_ could possibly be deterred by a door of any kind. Gaius hadn't been in; at least he'd been able to rush through, barricading himself in his room.

Not that it would help.

His heart was still beating furiously, threatening to break his ribs in its ferocity; he sat on his bed, closing his eyes, and simply listened. _Thump. Thump._ _Thump._ Just breathe.

He swallowed heavily, eyes still closed – when the tiniest whoosh of fabric rustling made his heart stop again, holding his breath.

The sound came from inside the room.

For the longest moment, he couldn't move – there was only his frantically pounding heart, and the roaring in his ears, and the knowledge that _she was here_. His eyes flew open on their own accord –

The room was empty.

Merlin choked on a sob, doubling over as a wave of nausea hit him. _There's no way I'm getting out of this alive._

* * *

The pounding of his heartbeat doubled, and he struggled to breathe before hearing their voices.

"Merlin! We know you're in there!" Arthur's voice, commanding and also frantic. _Oh – just him._

Merlin lay on his side, still short of breath – he couldn't find it in him to get up and obey Arthur's orders. His skin felt cold, and his insides felt like ice.

"Merlin! Merlin, open the door!" Gwen's voice, this time – panicked, pleading. Her frightened tone made Merlin's heart hurt – he hated to be the cause of his friend's fear – but lethargic fear was weighing him down too. He drew a shaky breath, not moving.

"Merlin! _Merlin_!"

The pounding continued – the door rattled wildly.

" _Merlin…_ "

Merlin distantly heard the strangled scream that must have come from his own mouth – he found himself on his feet in an instant, his hammering heart becoming painful – but the room was still empty, the door still rattling on its hinges. And the voice hadn't been Arthur and Gwen's shouting.

It had been the soft, quiet murmur of Morgana.

He leaped for the shaking door, grappling at the knob, but it refused to turn. _Come on, come on –_ Merlin's hands shook so much that he couldn't even keep a grip on the handle, but it was clean that it wasn't budging anyway. The frantic cries from outside the door were ceasing, but Merlin didn't notice as he froze, his heartbeat roaring in his ears.

Morgana's quiet, lilting laugh echoed, erasing every other sound.

* * *

His frantic heartbeat throbbed to her ears, his fear palatable, but Morgana couldn't bring herself to feel anything but satisfaction. She watched, smiling, invisible to his eyes – _that can wait._

Merlin's whole body was shaking; he gripped his unruly black hair in his hands, sliding down to the floor with his back against the quivering door. The others were still pounding, trying to get in, trying to help _Merlin_ – the thought only made her more incensed, but also more pleased – because they'd fail, this time. _You'll never help him again._

Between his terrified gasps for breath, Merlin tried to choke out a few strangled words. "Why – w-why are you…why are you doing this…" Not really a question. He was just pleading, trying to find a justification that could save him. Still – the question made her anger burn in her soul once again.

She allowed herself to flicker into existence, standing just a few feet from Merlin's crumpled form. His sharp intake of breath betrayed him – she knew that _he_ knew she was there. Not that he could have doubted it before. His eyes widened and he jerked back, slamming into the thin wooden door, gasping – she just tilted her head, her lips twisting into a red smirk.

"Why am I doing this?" Morgana asked quietly, mockingly; she slowly moved forward crouching before Merlin's shaking form. "Funny you should ask. Well, I suppose it isn't really all that surprising that you could forget, so soon…forget what you did to me."

Merlin was shaking his head, eyes wider than ever, as Morgana thrust her head closer to his, her smile turning into a scowl. The calls from outside continued, fading into the background noise; they wouldn't hear her, after all. "Did you forget? Did you forget how you betrayed me – betrayed one of you own kind, to help _them_? To help _Arthur_ , a _Pendragon_? Did you forget how you stood with _them_ , and helped them slaughter people like us? Just because we tried to restore the rightful order to this land – because we tried to remove an unjust tyrant from the throne? Did you forget all of that? Because I certainly didn't."

"It wasn't – you know we couldn't –" Merlin whispered, stuttering unintelligible nonsense – Morgana didn't stop to listen.

"Or maybe you've forgotten how you won, in the end. How you caught me, O mighty Emrys." Morgana spat out, derision in her voice. "Maybe you forgot how – despite all your talk of Arthur being different, and not like Uther, and how he'd accepted magic, and how he'd change things – maybe you forgot how he sentenced me to death. Or how you agreed to it. Or how everyone watched as I was led out to the pyre."

Merlin's heartbeat was more than audible; it was the only sound, filling her mind like a throbbing tempo to her words. Her nose was less than an inch from his – her eyes stared into his terrified ones. "Maybe you forgot how everyone stood and watched as I burned – as I _screamed_. All those people – they used to know me, used to love me. We used to be _friends_ , but you killed me. You watched me _die_."

"I'm sorry," whispered Merlin, his voice tearing on the sob in his throat.

"Too late," Morgana whispered back, her insubstantial form flickering out of existence – in less than a second she was standing again, a few feet away from Merlin. Another perk of being a ghost – instant teleportation, no spell work required. "Too bad. You watched me die…now I'll watch you. And then them. All of them."

She smiled her terrible smile, head tilted mockingly. "They'll never know what hit them."


	4. Dark Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Everyone has a dark side. Some are darker than most. But when Merlin lies out all the cards on the table - revealing anger and hate, murder at the bat of an eye - there can only be one thing to say...
> 
> Rating: K+
> 
> Genre: Hurt/Comfort / Angst
> 
> Disclaimer: Merlin isn't mine! The only thing that belongs to me here...are the words, that I personally typed. Nothing else. =)
> 
> BEFORE YOU READ: Get over to YouTube and listen to 'Dark Side' by Kelly Clarkson. Personally, I am a huge fan of Kelly Clarkson - all of her songs are so heartfelt and touching, and I love pretty much every single one...this one in particular, because it's very relatable and beautiful and just well GO LISTEN TO IT. It's great. Hopefully this fic will correspond to it even slightly.

_Boom_.

When Gwen, Merlin, and the Knights burst through the final set of double doors with that resounding crash, the sight that greeted them was not at all pleasant – several scores of warriors, standing impassively in uniform rows that stretched from wall to wall of the vast stone chamber.

The door slammed ominously shut behind the invading group, and a complete silence fell.

Gwen was the one who broke the tense silence. "How are we supposed to get past… _that_?" The black-clad warriors did not react, and everyone gave a silent sigh of relief. At least they wouldn't be provoked by anything other than attack; they maintained their lifeless positions, with their glinting swords held before them, the points planted firmly on the stone floor.

Gwaine tutted softly, shaking his head. "What I'd like to know," he said softly in his gruff voice. "Is how Arthur always manages to get himself into these situations? Is it a requirement or something, for princes to strive to make their lives as difficult and dramatic as possible?"

Merlin scoffed softly at that, and Gwen sighed, unable to help agreeing with him. The reason that they were there at all – to remove Arthur from yet another sticky situation. Arthur had been challenged by a traveling swordsman who turned out to be a sorcerer, who turned out to have brokered some deal with Arthur to meet him at some sacred grove at some time or another in exchange for valuable information about the movements of their enemies… it didn't really matter, in the end, because it was just another annoying plot devised to destroy Camelot. Now, Arthur had been taken – or had gone, it wasn't really clear yet – to this dark stone fortress, which turned out to be less fortress than maze. Gwen, Merlin, and the Knights had, of course, been following Arthur the entire time, and they'd fought their way through the labyrinth of corridor after ominous corridor…until, _this_. The congregation of unmoving masked warriors was more than a little unsettling, and besides, they far outnumbered Gwen's little group.

Elyan took half a step forward, narrowing his eyes. "They haven't moved, though…maybe they're just an apparition or something?"

Lancelot shook his head fractionally, his eyes never leaving the rows of warriors. "No," he breathed, still careful to keep his voice to a minimum. The sound still made Gwen feel that faint, warm feeling inside of her, until she squashed it down hastily. _Arthur_. "Look. They're breathing. I think they're real enough."

For a moment they simply stood there, observing, and Gwen felt the panic that had been lingering in her swell. Her gaze flickered to each of the Knights beside her, and then to Merlin. Maybe he…before she could voice the question, Gwaine took a deep breath.

"Well," the brash knight sighed, smiling a grimace. "There's no time like the present, is there?" With a firm nod, he stepped forward and began to draw forth his sword.

Before Gwaine could get the blade even halfway out of its sheath, every warrior in the great chamber moved as one. They flipped their swords in the air gracefully, the movement so synchronized that it was almost hypnotic, and then they each squared their stance, holding their swords before them with the points pointing unwavering towards the ceiling, far above.

Elyan stepped forward to grab Gwaine's arm, jerking him back roughly, but the other knight had already frozen in his actions. "Never mind, then," Gwaine muttered, and Elyan shook his head.

"Look at them. It's impossible for any normal army to be so coordinated." He sighed, clenching his jaw with flashing eyes. "We'll never defeat them, not on our own."

Gwen's heart was pounding, and after taking a steadying breath, she turned to look at Merlin. He'd been silent this entire time, and she thought that she knew why. "Merlin, is there any way you could..."

Merlin gulped, sighing silently and averting his gaze. A few beats of silence, and then – "I can do it."

No one said anything.

It had been some time since Merlin had revealed to them that he was a sorcerer, on that fateful day when he'd used his powers to cure Arthur of a deadly poison. At first, Gwen and the Knights – though not Lancelot, Gwen had been quick to note – had been shocked and doubtful, because it was _Merlin_. But Merlin had saved Arthur's life, and even he – the prince himself – couldn't condemn Merlin. Among everything else, Merlin was their _friend_. Everyone knew that. So not one of them – not Leon, the ever-loyal knight, or Elyan, rather distant as he was, or even Arthur, always trying to win his dying father's approval – had told the king.

Despite that, ever since they'd found out what Merlin had been hiding, it had become a sort of banned subject between them all. Sure, whenever the situation called for it – such as in the middle of an ambush, or when some pompous noble could do with a bit of humility – then Arthur or one of the Knights would give Merlin the go-ahead, not that he ever really needed it, and sometimes, they'd even discuss his magic during private strategy meetings. But other than that, no questions were asked, and no one tried to find out just how powerful Merlin was or what else he'd done in the past. It may not have been the most stable of arrangements, but it worked for everyone, Gwen had thought, and Merlin had seemed more comfortable than ever.

Gwen had been hoping that, now, Merlin could do something – distract the warriors, causing a diversion so that the Knights would have a better chance at defeating them – but the way that Merlin said it made it sound as if he wasn't talking about a mere distraction.

Percival, surprisingly, was the one to venture forth into the silence. "You mean…"

Merlin didn't meet anyone's eyes, and gave a tiny nod.

An ominous feeling – even more so than before – settled in Gwen's stomach. Merlin looked uncomfortable, ashamed even – but also confident. Sure. He wasn't guessing; he was speaking from experience. Still – Gwen couldn't resist the morbid curiosity that overcame her. "…How do you know?"

Everyone seemed frozen, watching Merlin intently. The sorcerer in question swallowed, shaking his head dubiously, before he looked up slightly, his eyes peering brightly from underneath his fringe of dark hair. "Gwen," he scoffed tightly, his voice strained. "You don't – you don't really expect me to have protected Arthur all those times without killing people, do you?" Gwen's eyes widened as she heard Merlin's voice break slightly on that word – _killing_. Merlin swallowed heavily again, looking away to give the ground a hard stare.

"I've – there are a lot of things that I've had to –" Merlin continued haltingly, seeming to stumble on every word – Gwen had never seen him so uncomfortable, or so dejected. "Well, it isn't exactly a picnic."

His slightly bitter words were met, once again, by silence.

_You don't really expect me to have protected Arthur all those times without killing people, do you?_ The words refused to stop repeating in Gwen's mind, because it was true – she had. After all, this was _Merlin_ – sweet, kind-hearted Merlin, who hated hunting and mocked any sort of violent competition. They all knew that there was more to him than just that, but – none of them ever really wanted to confront that. Gwen certainly hadn't, and not just to refrain from putting Merlin under pressure. Just because it was too much.

But it was still there, and ignoring it wouldn't make it go away. What Merlin had done. What he could do. Gwen stared at him with wide eyes, watching how he stood stiffly, his jaw visibly clenched. Why? Was he waiting for rejection, scolding – perhaps for the proverbial axe to fall, as if it'd been hovering above him all this time?

Thankfully, Lancelot broke the tense silence, stopping Gwen's confused train of thought. His voice was soft, consoling, understanding – Gwen suddenly remembered that Lancelot had known about Merlin before the rest. "We're knights, Merlin," said Lancelot, moving a half-step forward in earnest. "We've killed people too. It's no different. It's our duty." _So why should what you do be any worse?_

Merlin shook his head slowly, still refusing to turn and look at any of them, instead staring resolutely at the rows of impassive warriors standing in the chamber before them. "You don't understand," said Merlin quietly, some hidden emotion wavering under his low voice. "It's not the same. When you fight – when you kill – you do it openly, you give them a _chance_. I don't; I can't. It's just…a word, a _thought_ , and they're dead. It's…it's not fair." His voice trembled – not with hidden emotion, anymore, because Gwen could hear it plainly. It was a deep-seated, old self-contempt, and it sent daggers through Gwen's heart and fragmented thoughts flitting through her head – _and Uther would punish Merlin for his magic? It's obvious that he punishes himself enough_ – the self-tortured look that Merlin had about him nearly broke Gwen's heart, yet still she couldn't force herself to say anything. _Merlin – a killer?_

Every time Merlin spoke, a stunned silence seemed to follow his words. A few seconds in, however, Gwaine shifted on his feet, taking half a step forwards as he watched Merlin with an intensity that was uncharacteristic for the erratic man. "We all do what we have to," said Gwaine firmly, sounding completely sure, completely confident that he was arguing on the right side of the argument.

"I do more than that," snapped Merlin, before sighing apologetically. He still stood there with his shoulders a little hunched, looking almost haunted – when had this part of Merlin been born, this sadder, angrier part? Or had it just been hiding behind the same mask as the rest of his secrets had been? Gwen was still just standing there, transfixed.

"Exactly," Lancelot was saying firmly, eyes wide in earnest – trying to convince. "No one expects you to do so much, Merlin. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Merlin had begun shaking his head rapidly halfway through Lancelot's sentence – on a closer look, Gwen saw that _Merlin_ was shaking, his hands clenched tightly into trembling fists and his breathing taut and quivering – he turned to face Lancelot, frowning and stepping forward almost challengingly. "No – you don't – you're talking like I'm some sort of-of _hero_ or something, like it's all _good_ and _bad_ and I'm good, of course, but that's just it, I'm not – I'm _not_." His shoulders slumped as he lowered his gaze. "I'd like to claim that – that I've always used my powers for good, to help people – to help Arthur, and Camelot…but I haven't, not always. Sometimes…sometimes I made mistakes, or–or got angry, or just…didn't."

After another moment of that agonizing silence, his eyes flickered up to the faces of the knights and Gwen's own – and then away again, so fleeting but already having shown the pain and _fear_ that filled them. Seeing that – Gwen forgot all about staying quiet, and sucked in a quick gasp of shock at that face – but the gasp, just a small breath, was loud in that silence, and Merlin flinched, shifting half a step back.

_Fool_! Gwen could have kicked herself, but stood frozen, not wanting to make another wrong move – what could she say? What could she do to help him? _Do I want to?_ The thought vanished as abruptly as it had come. There was no way – it was enough proof, just seconds earlier, how Merlin had flinched away at Gwen's gasp of surprise. Judging by the look in his eyes, there could be only one reason – because Merlin was just that afraid of rejection, or being cast away by his friends if they came to thought that he was a killer, a monster. And why give them so much reason to think that, then? There he was, laying all the cards out on the table – not forced, but on his own free will. Just because he wanted them to know the truth. Maybe because he _wanted_ them to make that decision on their own – maybe because he wasn't sure what was the right one himself. The conclusion brought an unexpected wave of anger surging through her.

It had been a few seconds more of silence, but finally – it was Leon whose soft voice suddenly sprung up out of nowhere, his tone uncharacteristically understanding. "No one expects you to be a _hero_ , Merlin." Merlin looked up sharply, meeting Leon's eyes. "And nobody's perfect – everyone can make mistakes."

Merlin turned away again, after looking on for a moment – it still didn't seem to have been the exact right thing to say. Merlin spun back to face the multitude of warriors, his face turned away from all of them – Gwen could only see his profile, his jaw tucked in defensively and his eyes downcast – she could see the muscle below his temple twitching as he clenched his jaw repeatedly.

Maybe it was her imagination, but perhaps not – time seemed to slow as Gwen watched Merlin sparse lashes fall, the motion measured and deliberate as with a gold flare he _blinked_ –

And then time was back to racing, and sound crashed onto their eardrums – an earsplitting clatter filled the vast chamber, and they all jerked and jumped, turning to see that ocean of black-clad warriors slump with a hypnotic ripple telling only that they'd all begun to collapse at exactly the same time; that sharp, painful clatter and clamber was the sound of dozens and dozens of heavy swords falling to the stone floor at exactly the same moment.

Even as the swords stilled, the sound vibrating faintly around the room, the warriors finally hit the ground as one – a giant _thud_ and a tremble ran through the room…then silence.

Merlin sighed – the sound filled the whole room – and turned away, dragging his feet over the rough stone; they could all see the gold just as it faded from his eyes. "Mistakes," muttered Merlin, shaking his head with a tense self-contempt – he began to push past the knights, all standing there too shocked to move – and then, in a flash, Gwen knew.

"Merlin!" She leaped forward without thinking, reaching out to grasp his wrist – he jerked to a halt, looking inquisitively at her with empty eyes. "Merlin, don't. Don't – I know what you're thinking, what you think we think of you – and you're wrong. You think that we'd place you as a monster – that there's so many dark and terrible things you've done and we don't know about that if we did know, we'd immediately cast you off. Like that would somehow change things. But it's not true, Merlin, because we know _you_. Despite anything you might have done, or any way you might sometimes feel – no matter how bad your bad side is. It won't change our opinion of you, who _you_ are."

With every word, Gwen felt the weight that seemed to be on her soul lessen – she knew that every word was true. Merlin's miserable expression had begun to soften, and now he merely stood there with eyebrows raised – his eyes perhaps a bit more moist than usual.

"She's right," murmured one of the knights quietly, and they all came to stand around them, offering all of their support and trust – and _friendship_.

Gwen smiled, looking up at Merlin with teary eyes. "Everyone has a dark side, Merlin," she said softly, stepping forward to grasp him tightly in a hug. "But that's not who you really are. And we're not going to let you forget that."


	5. You're Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: You're Safe
> 
> Summary: After everything – Arthur is left defenseless, the knights are left without orders, and Camelot is left completely in the dark. Merlin is left at the bottom of a cliff.
> 
> Rating: T(ish)
> 
> Genre: ANGST (surprised?), Suspense, Hurt/more hurt…(I'm so sorry)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin…(is this really even necessary)…
> 
> BEFORE YOU READ: Go to YouTube, Spotify, whatever your favorite music streaming thing is, and listen to the song "You're Safe" by Rachel Platten. I think it's probably meant to be a sort of nice, comforting song…I guess…but to me, it's always sounded sort of unnerving. But really beautiful anyway, so go check it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have literally been sitting on this thing for an entire freaking year...I have nothing to say.

 

After everything.

After a storm hits, tearing the world to shreds and leaving everything in pieces - well, after everything, is when the worst begins. The aftermath.

After everything, Arthur is left defenseless. The knights are left without orders, without any sort of goal or objective. Camelot is left in the dark - they don't know the worst, and maybe they never will. Maybe their world will just flicker and disappear, without ever knowing why or what went wrong.

Merlin is left at the bottom of a cliff.

* * *

It's not the broken bones, not the bruises or the cuts tearing down his body like burning stripes - not anything, by itself. It's everything, together, which makes it feel like his entire world has already burned down to ashes. Agony can't describe it.

If he could think, Merlin would know that it is beyond impossible for even his magic to fix - _if_ Merlin could think, he wouldn't try. But he _can't_ think, can't even remember his own _name_ , so _he_ doesn't try to stop it. Underneath his skin (assuming he still has skin, assuming it hadn't all burned off in the flames of pain), his magic races to heal him - races to accomplish something impossible.

With every moment that goes by, his wounds are healed by a fractional amount. With every moment that goes by, the amount of energy that he has left drops by terrifying increments.

He doesn't have much time left - or didn't - but then...on the edge of his senses, not that he is aware enough to notice it... _her_ presence appears. For a second, it only flickers, dancing on that edge - it takes a moment, but soon - his magic knows. _She_ 's _coming_.

The problem - one of many - is that his magic is not strategic. It can't really plan ahead or in case of disaster, and so in this instance - it does what it must to help Merlin. It races, even faster if possible, to heal him - to ready him for what must be a fight with Morgana, headed his way. It pours all his remaining strength into the task, frantic and without reservation.

It goes from _slowly_ killing him, to doing so at a much faster pace.

All the while, Morgana makes her gradual approach - never hurried, never rushed. She's more than casual in her descent towards her prey, especially when they're already all but crushed.

When she arrives at the base of the cliff, her eyes rove over Merlin's broken form hungrily - there's a rabid hope in her eye, eager for him to be alive so she can inflict just a little more pain. Her wish is granted - she can see how his fingers twitch ever so slightly, how his eyelids remain open by just a fraction of space.

And so, it comes as a surprise to her - when she sees that beneath those blood-streaked eyelids, a glimmer of gold sparkles in his eyes.

That's exactly when Merlin's magic gives out, completely exhausted and drained of strength.

Morgana falls to her knees beside his body, mouth gaping and eyes wide; her hand reaches out towards him, fingers trembling, but they don't touch. Her breath comes as a gasp, a choked wheeze - even as Merlin's breath falters and fades to a halt. She sits there, her eyes glassy, hiding what must be a flurry - a whirlwind - of thought. It's a long moment, a moment filled with the shocked breaths of just one person - beyond that, silence.

Finally she swallows heavily, her eyes still blank - she lifts her hand, about to perform magic, but it's not to deliver a fatal blow of her own.

Instead, she whispers a handful of benevolent words, and begins to heal him.

Energy flows through Merlin's body once more, and he begins to draw in the faintest of breaths. She watches it all with an unreadable look in her eye, focused on the task of healing his wounds. It's not an easy job, or a short one - but she stays, despite the difficulty; she doesn't move an inch.

After a time - a mind-numbing time of blankness, concentration and pain - it's done. Merlin's eyes flicker open again, and they widen as they catch sight of the exhausted witch kneeling at his side, panting in exertion. Her hand still hovers over Merlin's chest, and he struggles to move away despite his lingering fatigue. Shock, fear, disgust - many more emotions make themselves known on Merlin's face, and he opens his mouth as if to say something - not a word is heard.

Morgana sits back with a sigh and lets her lips tilt upwards in a familiar smirk. Her hand lifts once more - obviously trembling at this point, but Merlin still can't work up the energy to move far enough away. She mutters the words loud enough for him to hear, even though he'll probably know exactly what she said seconds later, regardless.

" _Swefe nu_..."

There's just enough time for Merlin's eyes to widen and for him to gasp in panic, before he slumps back to the ground. That, and also - before he can slip back into unconsciousness, the comfort of not having to think - a short phrase is heard. One that sends an inevitable chill of fear through his very core.

Morgana whispers them softly, sounding so very _almost_ sincere.

"You're safe..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually I do have something to say - please leave a comment and tell me what you think! I love to read comments. It makes me very happy. :) Thanks for reading!


	6. NbHd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: NbHd
> 
> Summary: Another flight in the night, an escape from everything that Merlin calls home – he's been there before. There's only one rule – don't look back.
> 
> Rating: K
> 
> Genre: …angst…and angst…
> 
> Disclaimer: (consider this disclaimed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read: Look up OneRepublic's song "NbHd". It's relatively new, I think, and awesome, but then I simply love OneRepublic and would peg nearly all of their songs with that label. This one in particular seemed like it would do nicely for this.

…

" _Merlin!"_

_A dim room, lit only by a flickering fire and a few slits of pale moonlight, swims into focus for a second – dissolves again. A persistent voice, achingly familiar, calls out again in a voice soft and threaded with urgency._

" _Merlin! Wake up, dear!"_

He wants to answer, but somehow can't.

" _Merlin_!"

The heartbeat that he hadn't known was racing must be what wakens him. _Thump, thump, thump._

"Merlin! Get up, my boy!"

The fog of sleep refuses to be chased away, despite the layered urgency that colors Gaius's voice. Merlin sits up groggily, rubs his eyes even more groggily. The hand that falls heavily onto his shoulder, urging him to hurry, says half of it. The look on Gaius's face says the rest.

There's a feeling that he wishes he could have forgotten, welling up through years of memories and fresher regrets. It's familiar and yet just as sharp as the first time, a subtle and gnawing ache originating from deep within his heart. Gaius's stern frown is transparent, and the array of emotions hiding beneath are on full display. He wishes he couldn't see them. Once was enough.

" _Hurry, Merlin, you've got to go!"_

_His mind whirls, trying to dispel the remnants of sleep while simultaneously understanding what's going on. The only thing that really registers is his mother's face, etched with urgency, fear, and sorrow._

" _W-what? Mother, what are you –"_

" _There's no time! You need to leave, Merlin. You can't stay here, not anymore." Her words are firm despite their frantic urgency. Her expression seems to agree, but her eyes say otherwise._

_Merlin can't force himself to move. His mother's words are reverberating in his mind, but he can't comprehend them. They don't seem real. He gaps at her, filled with a thousand questions and yet lost for words._

" _Come_ on _, Merlin, there's no time to_ waste _–"_

" _B-but I, I can't just – I can't just_ leave _, Mum, just like that –"_

_She's standing barely a step away already, but at his words she seems to rush up to him – her hands grasp at his shoulders with a tight and well-worn grip. They don't seem like they want to let go, and yet they're pushing at him – pushing for him to get up, to go, to leave._

" _Merlin. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. But you have to. You must."_

He finds himself standing in a heartbeat, and his head is sharp and suddenly free from sleepiness. Gaius's heavy gaze refuses to leave him, and Merlin blinks away to try and escape from the expectation. Because, the _expectation_ – as if he knows what to do, how to react. He looks around the room, familiarity in every corner. The walls are warm and comforting, and his possessions strewn across the room echo the word _home_.

He hasn't even left yet, and already this place sends a pang of nostalgia cutting through him. But he can't dwell on it – that's the rule. Just leave. Don't try to delay. He doesn't stop to try and salvage a moment longer here – Merlin simply finds his coat, pulling it on roughly, and strides out of his room. Doesn't look back. _No good_.

Gaius' workroom is filled with soft light, cluttered with dozens of baubles and vials and books. Familiarity – it lurks in the bookshelves, under the loose sheathes of parchment, within every crack that characterizes the worn, scuffed wood floor. Everywhere. _Don't look_ , he wants to tell himself, but some rules are made to be broken, aren't they?

"I don't know if you can come back, Merlin." Gaius's eyes are grave, and Merlin wishes he could smile and make that graveness go away. His face is numb, though, and no such thing as a smile comes forth.

Instead, it's a dry mouth, faltering breath, words that get caught on his tongue. "…I – but Arthur – everything…"

He doesn't know why he's arguing, pressing this final moment into a slightly extended one. He knows exactly what's happened, what has brought everything to this. He knows exactly where it leads – a flight in the night, darkness ahead, and the twinkling lights of home at his back.

"Merlin," says Gaius slowly – his eyes might be holding back tears, and his tight grimace may be pressing more than just sternness from his features. He shakes his head grimly, and Merlin almost can't meet his eyes – he feels lost enough as it is. "I'm sorry, my boy."

The night turns on, and something seems to say, _time's up_.

Merlin reaches for Gaius, pulls him into a fierce hug, and then turns on heel and leaves. Familiar walls, familiar corridors, familiar home – he keeps his eyes trained on the ground, and the worn flagstone looks a little too much like the sort of floor he'd spent the past few years of his life walking on.

Hope occurs to him – something that he tends to keep a firm grip on, most of the time – and Merlin thinks that maybe, possibly, it's hope that will turn out to be right, in the end. But right now – _now_ , he's not living in the possibility that hope might bring. He's living _now_ , and the walls of this castle are dragging at his limbs. He repeats the rule that he created, made just for this purpose, and hurries through the night. _Don't look back_.

Don't look back.

" _Don't look back, Merlin," his mother murmurs against his ear as she clutches her son tightly against her. "Just go. Don't worry – everything's going to be fine. Things will be normal again, you'll see –"_

_She says the words with a forced cheer, a deliberate upwards lilt that does nothing to hide the quivering of her voice. She says them like Merlin's just supposed to ignore it, like he's supposed to smile and hug her back and pretend that it'll be okay._

_He can't. He pulls out of her embrace, frowning and frantically shaking his head. "Don't," mutters Merlin, searching her face. There are tears tracing down her cheeks – she hastily reaches up, brushing them away. "Don't – Mother, we don't have to – we'll find another way–"_

" _No, Merlin," his mother says quickly, squeezing his shoulders forcefully. She chokes out the words, blinking back tears. "No, don't think of that. T-there isn't another way. Gaius – he'll take care of you, he'll t-teach you – and one day –" She breaks off with a sob, pressing her fist to her mouth. Merlin feels his brow crumple – he gapes at her, shaking his head, desperate to somehow put a smile, a real smile, back on her face – she smiles tremulously, and it portrays nothing but sorrow._

 _He steps forward to hug her again, as fiercely as he can – if only he could hug the sadness from her. He wants to protest again –_ surely there's a way, things don't have to be like this _– but a realization creeps over him like a cold winter sun, and he can't voice the objections. The reason his mother is so adamantly_ against _hoping for another way – he thinks of the father that he never knew, the_ gifts _that must have been hidden behind that mysterious face. Merlin wonders, fleetingly, if that man stole off in the night, too, and if his mother watched him go. If she urged him to go, despite the tears streaming down her face._

_She whispers into his ear again – his collar is wet from her tears, now, and Merlin feels his own eyes begin to sting. "Go, Merlin. You have to go. Don't look back. Everything will be alright in the end." Her voice shakes, and her frail body quivers in Merlin's wiry arms._

_He swallows his protest. Every move aches – but somehow, Merlin thinks that lingering will only make it worse. Now, he mostly just feels numb. He kisses his mother on the cheek – forces himself to match her smile. Hers is teary, his is porcelain. He pulls on his jacket, grabs hold of the bundle that is already packed for him. Takes a glance around their modest little home – he winces at the familiarity, lounging in every corner._

_He goes, and he doesn't look back. Not at first. The night is eager to embrace him, wrapping him up with its velvety secrets – Merlin marches away, and tracks his eyes firmly on the ground that looks a little too much like the sort of ground that he'd spent his entire life striding across. He doesn't think of his mother, alone and sobbing. He doesn't think of his house, his home, the fragments of his entire world that are scattered across this tiny village._

_Merlin thinks of nothing but his feet, moving forward, step by step. When he reaches the top of the slight hill – the one that he'd climbed thousands of times, across the years – he pauses, bites his lip, falters. He presses his eyes shut, feeling the icy tears trace their way down his cheek – and he turns, and he looks back._

_The twinkling lights of home are sharp and piercing in the darkness, and they're already far, far away – they don't welcome him anymore._

Through the courtyard. Through the dark streets of the lower town. Through the city gates, silent and unnoticed and unmissed. Merlin thinks of nothing – his mind is numb, just like then, and now he welcomes the sensation. It's temporary – but it's safe.

He doesn't think of Gaius, alone again. He doesn't think of what Arthur will say, come morning, when Merlin doesn't appear to rip open his curtains and yank his pillows out from under him. He doesn't think of what Gwen's face will look like, when they tell her that he's fled.

He thinks of his feet, taking step after step after step along the familiar ground that grows less and less so, with every inch of forward motion. He's moving forward, but it feels more like he's running back – rewinding again, churning in place, gaining nothing. Throwing everything away.

He reaches the top of the hill, the exact place where he'd first caught sight of the city and all its grandeur – that was a long time ago, on a day that followed a night just like this. Now, he pauses again, grits his teeth. _Don't look back_.

He doesn't. He doesn't look, and behind him, the twinkling lights of home shine their goodbyes.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know what you think! And also – I'd like to say thank you to all of you who've read, favorite, reviewed, etcetera – thanks so much! I really appreciate all of your feedback and recommendations.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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